


Monster or Man

by SincerelyYours



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Claws, Eskel - Freeform, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Geralt has horns, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Self-Esteem Issues, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Horns, Idiots in Love, Jaskier does the most, Kaer Morhen, Lambert - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, big teeth, fangs, witcher family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyYours/pseuds/SincerelyYours
Summary: A world where Geralt’s second round of mutagens left a few more noticeable side effects. Where he learns something he always knew about Jaskier and Jaskier learns a few new things about Geralt. Where they fall in love and learn to accept who they are. Horns, fangs, and all.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 244





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic guys so I’m still learning! more chapters to come! I hope you enjoy.  
> warnings: mentions of self mutilation, blood, death (classic Witcher hunt stuff), incredibly self indulgent.

It is not uncommon knowledge that witchers tend to have some more… beastly characteristics in their appearance (and often their personality), however, it is a common misconception that the school of the witcher has to do with how the mutations manifest (wolves have large canines and cat witchers have cat eyes), in fact, bar a few differences (such as eye color), all the witchers have the same basic mutations. Except Geralt. As the only witcher to be given a second round of mutations, he experiences some rather unexpected mutations. He, much like his brothers, had rather large canines. Delightfully common for witchers, except Geralts grew even bigger. If he let them grow in fully they would fill his mouth and push out his lips in the slightest bulge. HIs hair turned white after his second go around, that was a trait unique to Geralt, but he didn’t mind much - especially now that he is older, still different, but not as startling as a young man with stark white hair - apart from the attention it gave him, allowing him to stand out as the White Wolf, and sometimes still the Butcher of Blaviken even after years of traveling with Jaskier. 

These were easy to deal with, he would file his teeth down regularly (damn witcher healing for speedy oral regrowth) to match the size of his brothers. As for his hair, a cloak hood when he needed to go unnoticed worked good enough. His size was that of a regular witcher, tall and broad and incredibly muscular.

Then there are the special mutations that Geralt was so blessed with after he survived getting mutated twice. These are the things that Geralt spent the most time trying to hide, he accepted the idea humans had of him, a monster, and did not need to add fuel to the fire (he was rather good at doing that unintentionally; see: Blaviken). If one were to ask Geralt how he felt about how he looked he would say that he doesn't care because it is not important and he doesn’t need to be good looking to complete his job. He does, however, undertake some rather gruesome techniques to hide these features so he may walk around town and not be murdered. It was all for the sake of getting jobs, really.


	2. Claws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prison break featuring Jaskier forgetting he's a viscount.

Jaskier had just finished his performance. He had found a noble who requested his talents for the week to be the main entertainment at his court during Oxenfurt’s Summer Festival. He had been fed, bathed, and given a wondrous room for his week but after days of the same thing he was ready to set back off and find his best friend. Summer was a good time for monster hunting and great weather for traveling. He packed up his bags and tucked into the large bed for the last time before he set out the next morning. 

He had been walking for over a day before he came upon a small noble family in residence near the outskirts of Oxenfurt. He offered Jaskier a job for a feast that is being held the next day. Apparently it was a last minute celebration and they were in need of good entertainment. Jaskier wanted nothing more than to find Geralt but a small stop on the way to his witcher wouldn’t hurt, plus Jaskier would even have lots of coin for when they met up.

“My Lord, may I ask what we are celebrating? A name day perhaps?” Jaskier was standing in front of Lord Antonde Arnep. If the whispers on the road up to the lord were to be trusted he was an easily offended and horribly greedy man so Jaskier hoped it was a name day and not a celebration for an execution. His hope was crushed with one simple sentence.

“I have captured and good for nothing witcher who tried to cheap me out of my coin and this celebration is to rejoice in the execution of the horrid witcher!” Lord Arnep waved wildly, his rings shimmering in the light, his fat face adorned with a vicious smile. “Oh bard it will be a celebration most wonderful for I have not imprisoned just any witcher, oh no! I have the Butcher of Blaviken in my cells as we speak!”

Jaskier's heart stopped. His Geralt, alone and chained up waiting for his death. Alone. Thinking that the last people he will see hate him and think he's a monster. Unacceptable. Even though Geralt probably has a plan to get himself out of this mess, Jaskier knows Geralt has had to do this before in his many years of life, but Jaskier still didn’t like it. Not one bit. Utterly unacceptable.

Jaskier wasted no time in making a plan to get Geralt out. It would have to be tonight, this way they can avoid as much bloodshed as possible. Geralt hates killing people, even when they deserve it, and the guards are just doing their jobs (even if it's a shit job for a shit man). He would have to find a way to get into the cells and get Geralt out. After that they just had to get off the estate with Roach and they could be off.

A young serving girl showed Jaskier to his room where he could safely store his lute and bag until his prison break. It was late afternoon when Jaskier finally found another servant to show him around. They passed the main hall where the celebrations would be held the next day before Jaskier asked if he could see the prisoner.

“You see, I am sure Lord Arnep would just love a song about him and his victory against the famous Geralt of Rivia but I need to get my inspiration today so the song is ready.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea, Master bard.”

“Please, you just need to take me to the cell, I’m sure there are Guards there to keep watch, it will be like you were never involved.”

A short walk and a few coins later Jaskier was left in front of the dungeons where two guards watched him as he bid the servant good day. Jaskier looked up at the guards, one was smaller than him, probably still a boy. The other was larger and obviously older, to most he would seem intimidating, frightening even, but Jaskier's standards on that front have risen over the past eight years.

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing here?” The big one asked, he had a deep voice that sounded almost like he was recovering from a cough. Jaskier spent some time flirting with the man. As evening approached he promised to come back and visit him later that night. He retired to his room and requested his dinner be sent to him. It was a hardy meal of stew, cheese, bread, fruits, and wine. Jaskier wrapped the fruit, cheese, and half the bread in a napkin and tucked them into his bag for Geralt. He enjoyed his stew and wine as he watched the sun go down, thinking of how he could turn this night into a song. 

Soon it was time to get to work. He slipped out of his rooms and started to walk toward the dungeons, he had to hide a few times as guards did their rounds. After what felt like forever he made it to the dungeon doors. He tucked his lute and bag in a small alcove and then sauntered up to the larger guard. He took his time flirting, letting his meaty hands roam his back before Jaskier asked to be shown the prisoner.

“It will be fun, you'll be there to keep me safe from the big scary witcher. I’ve always wanted to see one. I can’t wait for tomorrow. Please, good sir?” Jaskier slid into his lap and pressed his hands against the man's chest. After suggesting a few activities they could partake in after as a thank you, Jaskier followed the large guard down to the cells, playing the excitable, pretty bard. As they approached the last cell Jaskier, as quickly as he could, pulled the sword off the guards hip and hit his head as hard as he could with the hilt, efficiently knocking him out.

“I can’t believe that really worked,” He scurried up to the cell that contained his witcher shackled in the middle of the cell. Geralt was kneeling, head down so his dirty hair curtains his face. It broke Jaskier's heart to see him like this.

“Geralt? I’m going to get you out of here!” Jaskier pulled out an old lock picking set he got during university.

“Jask? Why are you here?” Geralt looked up to see his friend picking the lock into the cell, “Since when could you do that?” 

“I am a jailbreak expert Geralt! I learned how to do this in university, a time of great learning,” He opened the door and started to work on Geralt’s shackles, “Anyway, I was asked to play for Lord Arnep, the disgusting man, to celebrate your death! Honestly, does he not know who I am?”

After getting Geralt's hands free he took them in his, “How long were you in here? You look a mess, Darling. Are you good to go now? There's only one other guard and he is rather small so he shouldn’t be a problem. After that we can get Roach, I assume all your things are with her, and leave this wretched place.”

Geralt stood and grunted in response, taking the lead out of the dungeons. Using a simple Axii on the young guard as Jaskier got his lute and bag they snuck out to the stables.

Geralt saddled Roach and offered Jaskier his hand so he could ride, they needed to be out of town before morning. Jaskier took his hand to be pulled up behind Geralt on Roach, when he saw the claws. Real, genuine claws pressing into Jaskier's delicate skin just enough to hurt.

“Oh! Those are sharp,” Geralt immediately took his hand away.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to worry about, dear. Just a little surprised is all.”

“Hm.”

* * *

They rode all night, Jaskier pressed against Geralt's back, dozing off. When the sun came up they rode for a few more hours before taking a break and eating the leftovers of Jaskier's dinner from the previous night.

“How did you manage to break me out of prison?” Geralt asked, taking a big bite of bread. They were sitting near a small river they decided to use the rest of the day to rest and clean up after their daring escape. And Geralt needed to become presentable before they could find a bath in a town.

“I seduced the guard, convinced him it would be worth his while to show me what I wanted to see. He was far from what I would usually go for but flirting with men like him is easy. Just had to give him a little taste first and he’d do whatever I asked. It was quite easy, they should really train the guards better.” 

Geralt stopped eating and looked at Jaskier. He seemed fine, savoring his blueberries and cheese. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I wasn't going to leave you there, besides it was just a bit of flirting and leading him on, he barely touched me. But thank you, dear, for being concerned. You are a great friend.”

They set up camp and Geralt began to the process of declawing. Jaskier is leaning against a tree twiddling with his lute and scribbling in his book, no doubt turning their latest adventure into some heroic ballad.

“Jaskier? Aren’t you a viscount?” Geralt took a sharp knife from his pack and began notching his claws as close to the skin as possible, starting with his left hand, then snapping the claws off. 

“Yes. Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove and bard extraordinaire.” Jaskier gesticulated wildly with his arms to help get his point across.

“Then why didn’t you just use your title to get me out?” Geralt turned to look at the silent bard. Jaskier had forgotten. His first instinct was to tackle the situation as Jaskier, the witcher's bard, the sneaky lover. Not the powerful and rich Viscount Julian because that’s not really who he is. He hasn’t been Julian for years, and he had never been the viscount his father wanted. 

“That wouldn’t have been nearly as fun. No, that would not be sing worthy. The viscount that talked the White Wolf out of execution? No one would listen to that.”

“Hm,” Geralt repeated his declawing process on his right hand, only a few fingers bled. This got Jaskier's attention. How he noticed is beyond Geralt, if he were to guess he would say that Jaskier has a sixth sense for when Geralt does something he disapproves of. What Jaskier disapproved of, Geralt had no idea. 

“That, my witcher, is not proper nail care.”

“I have to get them filed down.”

Jaskier sighed, stood, walked over, and sat in front of Geralt, taking his hands and inspecting them.

“Yes, I understand that, they were quite large. But there is certainly a better way to go about trimming them. I mean look at this!” He lifted Geralt’s hand by the wrist and waved it around, “You're cutting them too short, you're supposed to cut them long and then file them down to avoid a situation like this.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier spent the rest of the afternoon helping Geralt file down his claws in the correct manner until they could pass as nails.

“Thank you, Jaskier.”

“Of course. I have to keep my nails in order as well, long nails and lute playing do not mix.” He stood and returned to his lute. “Now that’s done you need a bath. Get in that river, you stink up to the gods.”

Geralt would always be shocked by Jaskier. No matter how long he knows him, his open and loving heart will always surprise him. The more Geralt shares himself with his friend the more accepted he feels. More free to be himself.


	3. Fangs

Geralt will forever be thankful that he could convince Jaskier to stay at the inn as his face collides with the corner of the stone coffin. His contract was for a striga, a monster many people know about but was rather rare this day in age. In fact this was the first one Geralt had had to fight one in the eight years Jaskier had decided to follow Geralt around the continent. Jaskier had begged to come, even threatened Geralt bodily harm but stringas are too fast and dangerous for Jaskier to be lurking around like bait.

As he stood, Geralt spit out the blood that was flooding his mouth, a few white teeth clattered against the floor. Nothing new, they would be replaced in a day or two, a perk of being a witcher. 

The sun was due up any minute then he could go back and have a hot meal. He charged the striga to push her away from the coffin. Twisting away from her claws he shoots a well aimed Aard to force her back. He gently steps back, leading her to the other end of the room.

One… two.. Three! Three crows of the rooster. He was done. The striga transformed into a young girl, no more than thirteen summers. He gathers her in his arms and returns to the mayor's manor. He collects his coin and leaves the girl in the town's care and gladly makes his way to the room Jaskier earned them for the night.

Jaskier was sleeping when he got back. Good. The sun had just started to come up and he no doubt stayed up late into the night playing. He closed the door and started to take off his armor and swords as quietly as he could. They were dusty but he managed not to get too much blood on them, just the front of his leather chest plate from his mouth. His nose was already correcting itself, and any cuts on his chin were knitting themselves together. Geralt spit the blood that wasn’t starting to clot into the waste bucket and looked into the small mirror near the wash basin to check the situation in his mouth. His right canine was missing and his front two were chipped. The best way to fix chipped teeth was to just pull them and let them regrow, he knew from experience. He had just gotten one pulled when he heard the bed shift and Jaskier’s groggy voice.

“G’ralt? How was the hunt,” He yawned, stepping out of bed to see what Geralt was up to.

“Go back to sleep, Jaskier.” The s’ whistling through the new hole in his once pristine wall of teeth. Jaskier stopped walking before rushing over to where Geralt had paused his teeth pulling.

“Why do you sound like tha- OH MY MELITELE! GERALT! There’s so much blood! Is that a TOOTH?! What are you doing!” Jaskier has somehow found a rag in his fret and was shoving it against Geralt's blood soaked face. Gently removing Jaskier’s hold on his face, Geralt began calming the bard.

“Chipped them durn the fight. They regrow faster if I pull them out.” He lifted his lip out of the way to show Jaskier the remaining chipped tooth. The horror on Jaskier’s face made Geralt chuckle deep in his chest. He watched curiously as his friend's cheeks reddened slightly. 

“Well, okay then. You… continue doing that. I’ll see about getting you a bath, you’re filthy.”

“Hm. Thank you,” Geralt had already turned his attention back to his teeth and Jaskier set out to find a bath.

* * *

Geralt's teeth took about a day to come back in and that day was one of the best days of Jaskier’s life, bar the day he left home, and the day he met Geralt, and the day he won the Annual Bardic Championship in Oxenfurt. It was definitely in the Top Ten Best Days of Jaskier’s life. Geralt had the most adorable lisp that made Jaskier giggle even when Geralt was in the grumpiest of moods.

“Geralt,” They were back on the road, the sun warming their backs as evening approaches. Jaskier had his doublet open, as it wont to be, skipping beside Roach.

“Hm?”

“Geraaaalt, I’m bored. I know you can be better company. It’s just you and me no need to be embarrassed about your teeth, my friend.” He danced in front of Roach, spinning on the balls of his feet to face his stoic companion. “Tell me about the striga. You never got around to telling me anything good that I can use. Details Geralt, it's all in the details. One would think you would understand that.”

“Hm,” Geralt thought about what he could possibly tell Jaskier that would make a good ballad, or what an audience would want to hear. “Had to keep her out of the cript until the rooster crowed three times, after that the curse was broken.”

Jaskier was pink with the strain to hold in his giggles at Geralt. He lost his composure when Geralt sent a glare his way.

“So sorry, Darling. Ha, it’s just when you talk about all your Witchering in your deep scary voice and then the whistling! It's just too cute, my dear.” Geralt just grunted and told himself that he was not squashing down the desire to blush at Jaskier’s words. They continued in their merriment as they set up camp and until the sun set and their bellies were full. 

When Jaskier woke up the sun had only started to rise into the sky. Geralt was meditating where his bedroll had been the night before. He usually woke with the sun and if they were safe he would spend an hour or two meditating so Jaskier could enjoy sleeping in.

“Good morning, Geralt. Are we headed into town today? We could reload on some supplies and make some more coin.” He got nothing but a hum of agreement before they packed up camp and were off. 

If Jaskier thought Geralt was quiet yesterday he was sure in for it today. Jaskier didn’t see Geralt open his mouth once, he even skipped lunch. He didn’t push, sometimes Geralt had grumpy days, everyone does. He decided to check in when they had a bed for the night if Geralt's mood didn’t pick up by that evening.

They reached a town by mid afternoon. The pair found a small inn and tavern for Jaskier to charm the owner into giving them a room for a discounted price and a performance from the famous bard. Two beds, a small table with a cracked mirror and a small wash basin filled the room. Not bad, two beds was a luxury that they often could not afford so there were no complaints from either of them.

Jaskier left Geralt in the room, he was preparing for the hunt of drowners he saw posted near the front of the town, to get some food and ale. Nothing big but Geralt has skipped lunch and Geralt needed to support his witcher metabolism. A snack before a hunt never hurt. 

He slipped back into the room to see Geralt, sitting at the small table with the mirror, slip something under the table with his hands. Jaskier set the food down and went to see what his sneaky witcher was up to.

“Got some food. What are you doing?” Jaskier leaned against the table as Geralt looked over at the food and then back to Jaskier.

“I’ll eat in a minute.” It was nothing more than a grumble but Jaskier could hear the distinct lack of a lisp. He jumped up and grabbed at Geralt's face to try and get a look at his teeth.

“They grew back! Let me see, Geralt. Oh stop growling you gr- oh. Oh my, Geralt. Why is your tooth so big? And why does it look like that?” Jaskier had stuck his fingers into Geralt's mouth, lifting his lip and getting a clear view at the half filed canine.

Geralt snapped his head back and glared at the handsy bard.

“I’m not done filing it down,” He lifted the simple metal file that he had slipped under the table, showing it off before turning back to the mirror to finish. Might as well get on with it now that Jaskier knows. He had been hoping to keep Jaskier from seeing. He didn’t want Jaskier to see him any different, he liked how things were and Geralt knows what people think about his teeth - that they reflect how much of a dangerous monster he is.

Geralt knows he is being dramatic, Jaskier was rubbing off on him. He knows, deep down where he is reasonable and rational, that some wolfish teeth were not going to scare Jaskier away, not after over eight years together. If Jaskier was going to be scared away by some teeth he would already be long gone. But Geralt can’t help it. He knows, as a witcher, he should be able to control his emotions and focus on the logical but those irrational worries are still there.

“GERALT! Stop that,” Jaskier grabbed the hand that has begun filing again. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Not really, just a little when they get shorter, closer to the nerves.” Geralt was quite confused at this point, Jaskier looks absolutely horrified by Geralt but he also doesn’t want him to keep filing.

“Geralt, were you trying to hide your lovely teeth from me?” Jaskier had a feeling he was and knew exactly why, too, but he didn’t want it to be true. Geralt looked lost for words, “Geralt, darling, you know you never have to hide anything from me. I think you are absolutely wonderful no matter what you look like. You know that right? I don’t go singing about just anyone.”

“They are… not the nicest thing to look at. They make getting jobs harder. They scare people.” Geralt was looking at where Jaskier held his hand. Jaskier let his free hand cup the side of Geralt's face, tilting it up to look at him.

“I know. I hate that people can’t see beyond your mutations but they do not define you Geralt. Not to me.” Jaskier’s eyes were so sincere Geralt could do nothing but believe him.

That night, when Geralt came back from his hunt, he was smiling.


	4. Horns

It was midsummer, only a few months before Geralt would head back to Kaer Morhen for winter. Jaskier was spending a while with one of his lovers while Geralt finished up a long contract. He was tracking a rogue werewolf. They usually stay near settlements but this one had been terrorizing the countryside making his way north. Jaskier has asked to come along but after Geralt said it would be boring, and no different from the other werewolf hunts he’d done only longer, and Jaskier had met his current lover he didn’t put up a fight at being left behind. He made sure to let Geralt know he would be seeing him again before winter, as he usually does.

It always makes Geralt feel warm deep in his chest when Jaskier says things like that. He always looked forward to when Jaskier would meet up with him again. Geralt had found himself slowly growing to hate the quiet. The silence without Jaskier was deafening. Geralt preferred not to think about why he feels these things. He knows that if he does he’ll come to a conclusion he isn’t ready for.

Geralt had been in the woods for over a fortnight. He had no need to stop in any towns while on this hunt so he let his teeth grow in fully but kept his claws safely filed. He hadn’t even noticed his horns starting to grow in. They took longer than his teeth and nails to grow back but they always did. Strong and black, standing out against his pale skin and hair.

Geralt was getting close to the werewolf, he could smell it. It was really a horribly pungent creature. He waited under the moon for hours until the werewolf appeared. Geralt wasted no time, downing a Thunderbolt potion, and charged the beast. The fight wasn’t long, Geralt managed to decapitate the werewolf just as the sun started to peek through the trees.

He returned to his camp and Roach with only a few scratches on his arm. Geralt was not prepared for the sight of Jaskier curled up near Roach, wrapped around his lute. It was a welcome sight, he had been missing his friend's company and the thought of him out and about alone, or with a lover, made him uneasy for reasons Geralt still did not want to address. Jaskier clearly thought of him as a dear friend and nothing else and that is what Geralt felt for him in return. 

Geralt set into cleaning his sword and armor while the sun continued to rise. He was settled into a peaceful meditation when Jaksier awoke. To say Jaskier was shocked when he opened his eyes to see his witcher adorned with two horns growing out of his head was an understatement.

“Good morning, Geralt. I have but one question for you my friend. Why, and I do not mean to be rude about this at all, do you have horns growing out if your head? Were you cursed!? Is there a way you can break it? And is that blood? Are you hurt? I thought you were hunting a werewolf. What happened, Geralt?”

Fuck. That was all Geralt could think. He forgot about the horns. They were still growing so they were not heavy and he had gotten used to them during his weeks in the woods. Jaskier knew now, how truly unlike a human he was. He wouldn’t ever want to look at Geralt again, Jaskier would never see him the same. This was the end. He would lose Jaskier, his only friend. He couldn’t lose him. He loved him.

Geralt is in love with Jaskier.

He had to fix this.

“No, I’m not cursed. It’s part of the mutations. I’m sorry, Jaskier. I forgot to get rid of them before you woke up.” Geralt didn’t dare move from his spot on the ground. He knew how threatening he looked right now, big teeth and pointy horns.

“Don’t be silly, Geralt. I already told you once that you don’t have to hide yourself from me. I was just taken by surprise - the other mutation seemed, well I don’t want to say normal but, you know, witcheresk - I wasn’t expecting horns. And really can you blame me for thinking it could be a curse, you could have just told me.” Jaskier leaned forward, cupping his hand on Geralt's cheek. Despite Geralt's best efforts he could feel the tingle of a blush upon his cheeks.

“Now why don’t you tell me why you are so worried to tell me, hm? I know just about everything about you Geralt, we’ve traveled together for over eight years. There’s nothing you could do to scare me off, not even growing some horns.” Jaskier dropped his hand on Geralt's shoulder, giving him time to gather his thoughts. When Geralt spoke he didn’t look up.

“I didn’t want you to think of me as a monster. You’ve never been scared of me before and I didn’t want you to start after seeing what a monster I am.”

Jaskier would have laughed at the absurdity of what he just said if Geralt didn’t sound so sad. He desperately wanted to console his friend but Geralt was still bleeding and Jaskier was worried that Geralt didn’t even try to clean it because “it's just a flesh wound, Jaskier” and as a witcher it would heal up no problem. Jaksir was still worried, though.

“That is absolutely ridiculous, Geralt. I have always thought you were more humane than any man I’ve met. You could sprout wings and a tail and I would still think you the opposite of a monster… Can you sprout wings and a tail?!” The chuckle that earned warmed Jaskier’s heart, he loved when he could get any positive reaction (any reaction, really) out of Geralt.

“No. Get a little harrier in the winter to protect from the cold but that’s it.” Geralt let his eyes roam up to meet Jaskier’s bright blue ones. Jaskier was smiling, and laughing. And wow. Geralt was weak. He would do anything to hear that sound again, to be looked at like that again.

“Honestly, I think you look rather dashing. Like a majestic knight, a hero for all kinds.” Geralt couldn’t help but smile. Jaskier was truly a wonder. “Now let me help clean up your arm while we talk, yeah? I know you’ll be fine but you know how it worries me.”

Jaskier settled next to Geralt, a clean rag from their bags in hand. He carefully peeled away the remnants of the shirt Geralt had worn and washed away the blood. He grabbed some bandages and began to wrap Geralt's large biceps. Jaskier marveled at the size of them, he could wrap both his hands around them and they would still wouldn’t reach all the way around. And Jaskier had long, musician hands.

“So is this as big as they get?” Jaskier asked as he worked, gesturing to Geralt's horns.

“They get bigger. They grow back every few months. I usually break them off and file them down until my hair hides the stumps. People don’t take too kindly to witchers, even without horns. They also fall off naturally.” Jaskier seemed utterly fascinated by all of this. “You can’t put any of my mutations in your songs.”

“Of course not, dearest. I would never betray your trust in letting me see the real you. People are horrible, this is something special only I get to witness, besides your brothers I assume, the only human graced with the true Geralt, and you are absolutely stunning.”

“I love you.” Geralt's cheeks were pink as the words fell out of his mouth. He regretted it almost immediately when he saw Jaskier’s mouth fall open and eyes go round. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“NO! It, ah, it's totally fine Geralt. I'm just -” Geralt knew he wouldn’t say it back, how could Jaskier love him when he has lords and ladies who fall over themselves for a piece of him. Geralt could not compare to everything they can offer him.

“I know you don’t love me, Jaskier. Not the way I love you. Just forget about it.” Geralt was about to go take a nice long sulk in the woods when Jaskier finally found his voice again.

“Now wait just a minute, Geralt! You are truly blind if you don’t think I’ve been falling in love with you! You really do never listen to my songs, do you? The one I wrote last month? That was about you! Not some lady I was wooing. I think you are the most wonderful person I have ever met. You are handsome beyond compare, regardless of what the mutagens have added or changed about you. I love it all, Geralt. I love your scary face. I love your stupid sense of humor. I love your need to help everyone. I love the way you say my name after I’ve been annoying you all day. I love you,” He took a deep breath, face calming from a deep red to a delightful flushed pink. Geralt was shaken from his surprise by Jaskier, hands on his hips, face just a little too close to Geralt’s, “Why aren’t you kissing me, Geralt? We have just confessed our undying love for each other, this is not very roman-”

Geralt grabbed Jaskier by his upper arms and pulled him close, pressing his lips firmly against Jaskier’s. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, he just knew that he had to kiss him right now. It wasn’t the nicest of kisses, with their noses squished together. Geralt wasn't used to kissing people who were the same height as him, he also wasn't used to kissing men OR kissing with his teeth grown in. He never wanted to stop.

He loved the feeling of Jaskier’s light stubble from not being able to shave today. His soft plushy lips against his. He loved how his fringe tickled his forehead and the warm puffs of air from Jaskier’s nose on his skin. He loved feeling Jaskier’s warm arms under his arms, slender but muscular, through his soft tunic.

He was sure he was going about it all wrong by the lack of enthusiasm from Jaskier, who is notorious for his enthusiasm. His worry was soon squashed as Jaskier brought his hands up to grip Geralt's shirt, tilting his head and kissing back, gently moving the kiss from the forceful press of lips to a more passionate kiss. Soft lips against chapped ones, moving together until they were breathless.

Jaskier pulled away, eyes glittering in the light. He was beautiful. Jaskier let his head fall against Geralt's shoulder, his arms slipping around his torso in a hug, Geralt’s arms soon following this example. This definitely is number one on the “Best Days of Jaskier’s Life” list, he couldn’t stop the giant smile or his slightly delirious giggles.

Geralt loves him. Geralt is holding him in his arms after the most exhilarating kiss of Jaskier’s life. Geralt has shared himself with Jaskier, the parts of him he doesn’t show anyone else, and Jaskier is in love. So utterly, truly in love. More in love than he ever has been. Jaskier has always fallen in love with parts of the people he bed but never wholly and unconditionally like this. It was terrifyingly wonderful. 

“Was it that bad of a kiss?” Geralt asked, “I can file down my teeth before we do it again. If you want to do it again. I would like to kiss you more. I promise I can kiss better than that.”

“Gods above, Geralt. That was perhaps the best kiss in my life, your teeth don’t bother me at all. It was really absolutely wonderful and if you don’t kiss me again I fear I will not be able to live.” Jaskier lifted his head up so Geralt could see his smile. Breathtaking, that's what Jaskier was. Blue eyes and browned skin. Soft hair and pink lips. Narrow hips and strong arms. Long legs and calloused fingers. All of him was absolutely perfectly firm yet soft against Geralt. He Kissed him again, not minding at all when Jaskier's hands found their way to his hair then his horns and held them.

They spend most of the day kissing. After Geralt made himself presentable again they moved on to find a town or village. Walking beside each other, hand in hand, sneaking kisses along the road. Geralt couldn’t help the soft simile on his face or keep his eyes off Jaskier for more than a minute.

He was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the kudos and comments! They honestly make me laugh and smile so much, ya'll are great.  
> One more chapter, the boys are heading home!


	5. Kaer Morhen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it babes!

It was late into autumn, only a few leaves remained on the trees and a steady chill had set in the air. Jaskier would have to part from his darling soon to head back to Oxenfurt where he has a warm bed for the winter. He wasn’t excited to spend months apart after finally getting together. Geralt was thinking along a similar line. He always worried for Jaskier when they were apart, he was a master at getting into trouble, and now that Jaskier knows Geralt, all of him, he is ready to open his home and family to the bard. He knows that Jaskier loves him just as much as Geralt loves Jaskier and he wants to keep him close over winter. He wants to keep Jakier close forever but that's an issue for later. Geralt decided to ask Jaskier to go with him to Kaer Morhen in a small town Geralt and Jaskier usually restock supplies in and part ways.

“Come with me to Kaer Morhen.” They were settling into their bed for the night, curled up in each other's arms. Geralt in nothing but his small clothes, his shirt currently being used to keep Jaskier warm under the too thin blankets. Geralt's hand tucked under Jaskier’s (his) shirt, enjoying the feel of soft, hairy skin under his fingers.

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier sat up, a smile spreading on his face, “I would absolutely be honored to join you!”

He settles back down with a kiss, excitement losing to exhaustion as the night grows old.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.” Geralt's soft, deep voice rumbles through his chest.

“Goodnight, Dearheart.”

* * *

The journey to Kaer Morhen would take just over two weeks. One week on an overgrown foot trail through the woods and another up the mountainside. They made good time in the woods, Jaskier was used to long walks alongside Roach. By the time they reached the base of the mountain Geralt's horns were back, not yet growing to their full length. Jaskier had insisted that Geralt not do anything unnecessary like getting rid of his horns and teeth when it was just them. Geralt was thankful for it. Jaskier even admitted to liking them (Jaskier loved them, in all honesty, but he thought it was better to slowly emerge Geralt into that idea). In fact, Jaskier had, unbeknownst to Geralt, invested in some string and beads at the market and had spent nights braiding and twisting them together to decorate Geralt's horns with golden-yellow flowers and blue gems. Jaskier had already made a set and decided he will be making many more of similar and different styles and sizes in the years to come. 

“Seems like we will be the last ones to the keep this year.” Gersalt stood from his crouch where he was looking at a set of tracks about three days old. “These are Lambert’s tracks. He’ll be there a few days ahead of us. Eskel always returns early to help Vesimir prepare the keep and bring more reserves for the winter while food is still relatively plentiful.”

“Lambert’s the short grumpy one? And Eskel is the one with the scars.” Jaskier was riding on Roach, the trail was getting more dangerous and the air thinner, overall unfit for a day's hiking if they wanted to make it before any true winter weather set in. They only had one more night on the mountain before they reached the keep.

“Yes, you’ll have to watch out for Lambert, he likes to take the piss.”

“Okay. And Vesemir? He’s like your dad right? Do I have to get his approval? Fuck, Geralt! I’m meeting your family! I’ve never really done this before. What am I supposed to do? Should I have brought gifts?” Jaskier waved his arms wildly, trying to display his panic to Geralt, almost knocking himself off balance. Geralt put a steadying hand on his leg.

“Jask, there’s no need to worry. Just help out around the keep and that will be enough. And yeah, Vesemir is a mentor, the closest any of us have to a father, he used to be our fencing instructor but he will welcome you as my bard until you give him a reason not to trust you,” Geralt was touched at how much Jaskier cared. He knew why Jaskier was so worried. It was because when they met Geralt had been rude and insulting to him, but Jaskier had nothing to worry about with his family because he would be there to make sure everything would be fine.

That night it rained. It was a horrible slushy rain, not yet snow but almost. The pair was curled up in a small cave, a small fire for warmth with some nuts and dried meat for dinner. Jaksier cuddled up to Geralt and placed his first finished set of horn jewelry onto Geralt's head. White string that stood out against the black bone, small yellow beads braided into the string as they twist around the horns, joining to rest on Geralt's head with a blue gem.

“What’s this?”

“Jewelry, Geralt.” Jaskier kissed his cheek. 

“Trying to make me pretty, bard? That’s your job.”

“No,” Jaskier swatted Geralt’s chest, letting his hand stay cupping Geralt's peck, “to help draw out your beauty, to display how gorgeous you are. To bring out your eyes and crown you with jewels and flowers because that’s what you deserve, my love.”

Geralt took his lover’s delicate hand and kissed his knuckles, then the inside of his wrists, up the stretch of delicate skin. Kissing his neck, up to his jaw and to his cheek.

“Thank you, little flower,” Geralt kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Geralt,” Jaskier moaned, “stop teasing and kiss me before my heart gives out, you insatiable man.”

* * *

When they set out the next morning the trail was muddy and slick. Jaskier had to walk, the mud was too unstable for him to ride Roach, dirtying his boots and pants while the end of his cloak dragged through the mud, much to his dismay.

“Geralt I am more mud than man! My toes are ripe to fall off and that is absolutely unacceptable! A toeless bard? No no, certainly not. I refuse.” There was nothing Jaskier or Geralt could do to fix any of this, and Jaskier was well aware of that fact but it made him feel better to get it all out and complain now.

“Only a few hours then you can bathe and eat a warm meal.” Geralt rumbled more for himself than Jaskier. The weather had not set him in the best mood for the last stretch of their trip.

“Oh Geralt!” Jaskier exclaimed, in complete awe, as they rounded a bend allowing the full view of Kaer Morhen to come through the trees, “It’s magnificent.”

Geralt was staring at Jaskier as he looked upon the keep. Geralt didn’t know what it was about this moment, maybe the pleased feeling of knowing Jaskier liked his home, but Geralt fell a bit more in love with him, if that was possible. He seemed to be falling more in love with him everyday, deeper than Geralt knew someone could.

“I love you,” Geralt had yet to develop a filter when it came to telling Jaskier those words. It was like Jaskier could do or say the most random thing and something in Geralt would make him say it. Once jaskier was in the middle of chugging down a full tankard of mead when he said it, in a full tavern full of people. He hadn’t even tried to be quiet. Jaskier had choked and spit mead all over the table. After coughing up a lung and cleaning his face, Jaskier smiled so bright he lit up the room and told Geralt he was incorrigible before kissing him.

“And I you, sweetheart,” Jaskier had taken up calling Geralt every pet name he could think of. Geralt wasn’t sure why he called him those silly things. He was used to being called “darling” and “dear”, Jaskier called everyone that. It made him warm inside when Jaskier called him things like “dearheart”. It was less warming when Jaskier tried to convince him to accept “honeybun” and “hot cakes”, or even “pumpkin”. Geralt didn't understand that one. He did not want to be referred to as a gourd.

A few hours later they walk into the courtyard. Up close Jaskier can see the crumbling walls and the broken stone. He can see a piece of wall and roof missing on the far side. It's beautiful in the way that makes his heart ache a little. The beauty of the forgotten and broken. Maybe it was just his poet's heart. He can see plants - the few that can survive the cold - growing out of the stone and up the walls, new life in a place that has known too much death. It's a treasure trove of inspiration. He loved it already even if it’s so cold his balls are frozen.

Geralt stopped at the stables and put Roach in her stall between Lamberts and Eskels horses. Jasker stood in front of them, feeding Roach the last of the sugar cubes he kept for her as a reward for carrying him up the mountain. Geralt unloaded the packs from Roach and then took her saddle off. He gave her a quick brush down before grabbing their packs and leading Jaskier back out to the courtyard where the other witchers had all come out to welcome their final family member. Jaskier would have thought it was cute if they all didn’t look ready to kill him… That’s not true, Jaskier thought that it was sweet that they’re so protective.

“See you decided to al’ natural this year Geralt.” Lambert, Jaskier assumed, puffed up his chest and crossed his arms. “Nice jewelry by the way, pretty boy.”

“I think it’s nice,” Eskel said.

“Hm,” Geralt just smirked, grabbing Eskels hand and pulling him in for a quick hug, doing the same to the other two. When he pulled back and stood next to Jaskier again, he took that as his queue to introduce himself.

“Hello, you must be Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir. I’m Jaskier, it’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Jaskier put his best smile on and did a little bow. The witchers looked amused and perplexed as they took in the colorful bard.

“So why did you bring a pretty whore home this winter? Is he that good in bed? You willing to share?” Jaskier was shocked, only for a moment, before laughing at the scowl on Geralt's face and accompanying growl.

“So sorry, my dear, I am afraid I am not a whore. I am a bard, and you don't seem ready to seduce anyone unless you count a monetary payment as flirting.”

Eskel barked out a laugh and Lambert punched him.

“I’m Eskel, welcome to Kaer Morhen. You must be the bard Geralt had grumbled so much about. You’ll fit right in.” Eskel was tall and built, he looked like Geralt but with chestnut brown hair and a bigger nose and his plump lips were disfigured by large scars that raked across one side of his face. 

“Hm, come. There is time for you all to bathe before dinner.” Vesemir turned from the group and walked into the keep. Jaskier wasn’t sure if this was a good reaction out of Vesemir and this is who Geralt got it from or if Vesemir already hated Jaskier.

* * *

Jaskier had never felt so good in his life. The baths at Kaer Morhen were by far the best he's ever had the pleasure of bathing in. The large bath was in a room just big enough to house a small drain that allowed dirty witchers a space to rinse off before they bathed.

“Honey bunny-”

“No.”

“Ger-bear?”

“No.”

“...Baby cakes?”

“Definitely not,” Geralt grumbled over the cackling laughter of his brothers.

“Fine, you’re no fun.” Jaskier pouted, “I just wanted to wash your hair.”

Lambert and Eskel watched in awe as Jaskier swam over and began to clean Geralt’s hair, dumping water over their brother’s head. Cleaning out the dirt from the white strands, somehow tender as he splashed Geralt and tugged his hair, pulling smiles out of Geralt left and right. When he was done Jaskier went to reach out for a horn to pull Geralt into the water before Geralt grabbed him.

“No.” 

The wolves tensed as they watched their brothers strong hand around the bards fragile wrist. They’d seen Geralt in action after a fellow witcher had pulled his horns as a joke, it was not pretty.

“Geraaalt. Stop being a party pooper!” Jaksier shot out his other hand and pulled his left horn. Geralt growled as his head was pulled to the side into the water. He could see his brothers looking concerned.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, bard,” Lambert was ready to step in if Jaskier became malicious to his older brother and sparked a fight he wouldn’t be able to win. Lambert wasn’t innocent in teasing and picking fights with his brother and teasing him about his looks but he knew not to cross that line.

“Jaskier, please. For your own good I would leave-” Eskel's words died on his lips as he watched Jaskier pull Geralt, via horns, close for a kiss before Geralt dunked his bard in the water. 

“I love you,” Geralt blurted as he looked at Jaskier’s floppy, wet hair. Water dripped off his hair and down his face and Jaskier smiled and kissed him all over his face murmuring his affections.

The two witchers were shocked, they never knew anyone who Geralt let see, let alone touch his horns. Not that many people wanted to, not after the first few times someone had tried. They hadn’t seen Geralt be so open and loving with anyone. They had never seen anyone who loved Gerat so entirely. Jaskier was special and they both vowed to protect the young man who made Geralt smile so easily.

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, “Please, you’re going to break Lambert. Come on, they need time to process.”

Jaskier looked over to see the two shocked faces before laughing. Geralt scooped Jaskier up and over his shoulder and attempted to get to dinner, ignoring Jaskier’s protests of being manhandled like a sack of potatoes.

After dinner and the very long walk up and around the castle they sat in Geralt's room. It didn’t have much. A fireplace with a chair and rug. A big bed topped with furs and pillows. Jaskier vowed that by the end of winter it would look homier.

“Do you think they like me?”

Gerlat looked up at his precious bard sitting in his bed bare chested with a fur wrapped around his shoulders. He looked unsure, it was not something Geralt was used to seeing on the man.

“Yes. They aren’t used to people who can talk to them like they are anyone else, they really aren’t used to someone who can look at me, or any of us, without smelling of fear. It’ll take them time to get used to you but they like you. Just no singing at three in the morning.”

“It was once! I was drunk!” Jaskier’s voice rose a few octaves, something Geralt found annoyingly cute.

“Hm.”

Jaskier pulled one of Geralt's horns, giggling at the grunt Geralt made at the sudden pull forward. “You know, I love these.”

“Hm,” Geralt climbed onto the bed, legs and arms bracketing Jaskier, smirking to show off his large fangs.

“Yes, and those as well. In fact I think we should put them to use,” Jaskier giggled again, pulling both Geralt's horns.

Geralt thinks he might just begin to like his horns too.

* * *

Jaskier was settling in nicely to Kaer Morhen, he was getting along with all the young witchers, helping out where he could and providing entertainment. He kept up with Eskel’s intelligent conversation and gave as good as he got when it came to Lambert. The only thing (or rather, person) that Jaskier didn’t know how to handle was Vesemir. The older witcher was perfectly civil and welcoming but Jaskier always felt like he should be proving himself when he was around. Especially when he was with Geralt.

It wasn’t until almost a week into his stay that Jaskier had a moment alone with Vesemir. They were settled in the large library, Jaskier helping Vesemir organize and set aside books that needed repairing. They worked in relative silence, Jaskier’s mindless humming was the only source of sound echoing in the tall room.

“You and Geralt, how did that happen,” Vesemir broke the silence, addressing Jaskier but not looking up from his pile of books.

“Oh, an exciting tale!” Jaskier set the book he was inspecting down, excited to have a chance to connect with Geralt's sudo-father, “I was fresh out of university, only eighteen summers. I was playing in a small tavern in Posada when I first saw Geralt, brooding away at his table looking absolutely breathtaking, big swords and black leather armor. I knew I had to introduce myself and then when I found out he was a witcher!” Jaskier brought his hand to his heart in a display of dramatic awe.

“It was destiny, I’m sure. I followed him on a hunt for a devil but it was really a Sylvan I think Geralt called him… Anyway! We got captured by Elves and Geralt was so amazing. He didn’t even have to kill anyone. Gave his coin to them and I got a new lute! I knew after that he would be my muse, I would spread his good name as the White Wolf, not long after that I made my first song about him. No more of that Butcher rubbish.”

Vesemir had turned his attention to the eccentric young man, “And you know why Geralt is called the Butcher?”

“Of course,” Jaskier dismissed, “but anyone who knows Geralt can see that he is, he is -”

“A monstrous creation,” the witcher supplied, watching Jaskier with a critical eye.

Jaskier’s red face snapped to the older witcher, “ _Everything,_ " Jaskier corrected, "Geralt is everything. He is beautiful and has the softest heart I have ever had the pleasure of loving. He cares so much about everything and all people can see are the swords and hair.”

Jaskier was trembling with built up anger, arms crossed as he glared at Vesemir's calm face. They spent a few minutes like this, watching eachother, Jaskier trying to calm down. He couldn’t understand how Geralt's own father could say something like that about him. 

“And what do you think about geralt’s… extra mutations. Something else for you to put in your songs?”

Jaskier understood now, this was Vesemir's way of protecting Geralt from getting hurt.

“Of course not. The world does not see Geralt the way I do. I understand why, he is very scary looking to most people, when he tries to be. And he tries a lot. I just didn’t care, he intrigued me because I knew there had to be more to him. When I started following Geralt it was for adventure and stories but he became my best friend and well, I began to get to know the real Geralt. Horns, claws, and teeth: yes. But also his heart, and his mind. He’s so smart and caring and funny. 

“You’re right. He is a creation, but not a monstrous one. When you gave Geralt those mutagens all those years ago you gave him a new side of him, they influenced who he is today. He experiences what it is like to be seen as a monster, but he forgets that he is also a man. He is a mix of the two, the best of both worlds. He is strong and independent but he is also smart and caring. And I think he looks handsome, with or without horns. I can’t stand to see him mutilate himself just for the horrible people that can’t have an open mind for the man that is going to save them.” Jaskier deflated, returning to where he had been sitting before his rants. Vesemir nodded, a small smile turning his lips up.

“You are something special, bard. I welcome you to our family. Look out for my pup.”

The next spring Jaskier accompanied Geralt on the path with a new ring on his finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave some Kudos and comments! Thank you for reading and lookout for more stories to come :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art inspired by Monster or Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253744) by [PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson/pseuds/PerplexinglyParadoxialPerson)




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